The Old Town Whore
by levisrictusias
Summary: Basin City reflections as told by three of Old Town's femme fatales.
1. Wendy

A/N: My first Sin City story. Flame the hell out of me. I dare you. Pick it apart. Tell me how I can improve. Actually, I've only seen the _movie_ twice, so I'm expecting it, that is if I get any. Anyway, here it is, part one of three.

"The Old Town Whore"

WENDY—"I told him to call me 'Goldie'."

I really hate killing, you know. So why was I so fucking angry when Marv murdered Kevin for me, even after I asked him to?

Vengeance?

Shit, I couldn't even think straight—how was I supposed to finish the job? But the truth is, I hate killing. Even in the name of my sister, I still didn't wanna do it. Sure, I had roughed Marv up a bit with the drive-by's and hit-and-run's, but I still didn't want to _kill_ him.

And when Gail had him all tied up (or so we thought) and I had him staring at the barrel of a gun…I just couldn't do it. I don't think Goldie would have _wanted_ me to. She showed him compassion, and companionship when he had none, so I figured that I should of at least done the same, even if I thought that he was her killer.

But there was something in his eyes. Something…it was honesty, I think, something you barely find in the slums of Old Town.

It's kind of funny—you sure wouldn't expect it coming from a guy like Marv, but he was civil, real gentleman-like when he got undone; didn't attack us at all.

I think maybe that was why I cried for him that day. He was sentenced to death from a crime he didn't do, in fact a crime he was trying to make someone else pay for. Everyone said it was for justice, killing Rourke, that son of a bitch. But killing a hooker—no, that's ain't justice. Killing a murderer, now that's justice.

Makes me sick.

Maybe that was why, when I visited him on his last living day and we slept together—nothing funny, I mean for real…

…I told him to call me 'Goldie'.


	2. Becky

A/N: My first Sin City story. Flame the hell out of me. I dare you. Pick it apart. Tell me how I can improve. Actually, I've only seen the _movie_ twice, so I'm expecting it, that is if I get any. Don't know Becky's background, so I made up my own. Sorry Frank :-). I love you anyway. You're a genius. Anyway, here it is, part two of three.

"The Old Town Whore"

BECKY—"Dear Mom: I'm a dirty, cheating, slut."

I didn't mean to do it. Well—I didn't mean for things to go all wrong. But that's always what everyone says, ain't it? I wonder what would happen if mama found out her daughter was a hooker and a cheat.

Gail is so fucking pissed at me—but I don't wanna go back and that shit. Then again, I don't have a choice, do I? But Gail—shit, she's gonna bite more than the skin off my neck the next time she sees me.

Bitch.

Then again, I had it comin' didn't I?

God, I fuckin' hate myself.

I ratted out all the girls who took me in, but I was more worried about Miho killing my cheating ass. Miho who can kill in the blink of an eye. Miho who's fucking beautiful. Miho who never smiles.

And then there's me, Becky, "the skinny one with those gorgeous blue eyes". Becky, the "little girl". Becky, the seventeen-year-old high school drop-out who's supposed to be workin' at the local drugstore to support her sick Mama but instead is whoring the streets of old Town.

But what can I tell her?

Hn…'Dear Mom: I'm a dirty, cheating, slut.'


	3. Gail

A/N: My first Sin City story. Flame the hell out of me. I dare you. Pick it apart. Tell me how I can improve. Actually, I've only seen the _movie_ twice, so I'm expecting it, that is if I get any. Don't know Gail and Dwight's story. Remember, I've only watched the movies. This is the last installment of my fic.

"The Old Town Whore"

GAIL—"Always and never…"

When I saw Dwight step out of nowhere, I was mad as hell. How can that son of a bitch waltz into our turf like that without so much as a…

…he didn't even say good-bye last time…

But seeing him there, nerves on edge but just as handsome as always, didn't piss me off as much as I thought it would. I felt shitty more than anything, really. Sad, kind of. Because I saw him go off with that barmaid crap-for-brains before.

Still, there he was, in the flesh, eyes cold and hard—he was going after "Jackie-boy" as called him. I pursed my lips and pointed my rifle at him, threatening to shoot. He looked surprised, but only for a sec. I told him that the girls and I would take care of it.

Miho did a good job, smart, sneaky bitch that she is—damn good of her. But Dwight…

…damn him…always trying to be a hero, that bastard. We ended up arguing. We argued about him getting involved, argued about what to do next—we've always argued about everything—but they always ended the same way—in bed.

But this time…the bastard hit me.

"You always were a quick one…" I hissed voice filled with a combination of shock and desire, bordering on the lustful.

"And you've always been my warrior-woman," he replied.

Then, without thinking, we kissed. Made out. "Ate each other's faces", as Dallas put it. But it was passionate, and it was hot, and it was a memory, a ghost of what we once knew, filled with skin, sweat, sex, and above all, love.

Which was, I guess, why, before he left, I told him I loved him.

"Always," I added.

"And never," he whispered huskily.

I'll always love you, Dwight. Always and never…


End file.
